WarCraft: The Twilight of Flame
by Kamon1
Summary: Seven years after Arthas' accension the world is plunged again into conflict. Please R&R.
1. Introduction

WarCraft© and any characters herein, unless of my creation, are property of Blizzard Entertainment Inc.

**It has been Seven years since Arthas took up Ner'Zhul's Crown and became the singular being, The Lich King.**

**The Orcish Horde is in a state of open war with the Human Alliance. The Lands North of Durotar and South of Teldrassil, are battlegrounds between the two superpowers. **

**The Night Elf Borders have weakened as of late. The Burning Legion's corruption still holds over the Furbolgs, leaving them mindless and spontaneous. But lately more and more outposts have had to be abandoned; more lives lost to the now organised Furbolgs. From the relative safety of Teldrassil the eldest Son of Cenarius, Delarifuss looked on in terror as a new banner rose above the ancient outposts of the Sentinels. A round table upon a Black background standing high and ominous as death above the Boughs of the New World Tree.**

**The Undead Forsaken, allied with the Horde, is ready to release the second Plague upon the World of Azeroth, to eradicate all life aswell as the Undead Scourge.**

**In Outland…Prince Kael'thas is readying his kin to leave the remains of Draenor. The natural Magic is leaving the ravaged planet, awakening once more the dangerous addiction that has befallen his people.**

**In Northrend the Lich King readies his "Armada of Death", the next stage of strength for the Scourge, to launch another Invasion of Azeroth.**

**But underneath the inhospitable wastelands of the Hellfire Peninsula, The creature known as Illidan Stormrage goes under a World-Changing transformation.**


	2. The Fate of the Elves

"I am ready to leave, Lady Vashj." 

"Prince Kael I beg of you, reconsider."

"No! There is nothing here for my people, only destruction."

And as Kael'thas was about to lead his troops into the World of Azeroth, an earth-shattering roar was heard from the dark depths of the Hellfire Peninsula, and a black creature shot up, breaking the earth it landed on the ground and the shadow subsided, revealing a Man sized being holding a staff with a great eye encased at the tip. The creature straightened and showed his green-skinned face.

"I am Gul'dan!"

With this statement the ground began to tremble and the portal began to close.

"Quickly! Into the portal my brethren! I shall follow. You, you brought death and decay to my homeland, you left your mark on the world and killed thousands of innocent people. Where is Lord Illidan?!" Prince Kael yelled with increasing anger.

"His body was not suited to my plans. You see when he consumed my skull; my soul was left to wander his subconscious, to unlock his true power. After his death I took control. I spent the last Seven years moulding his defiled corpse into something resembling my original form. I cannot let you leave Blood Elf." Gul'dan said leaving all remaining dumbfounded.

"You have no choice." Kael threw his Flamestrike at Gul'dan, who had barely enough time to cast a shield spell. When the flames subsided he saw nothing. Kael had left through the portal and closed it behind him.

"I shall find you Blood Elf! You and all of your kin!" Bellowed the ancient Warlock.

"Who was that, your Highness?" asked a Spell Breaker.

"A face from the past."

"My lord?"

"Let's get moving. We must establish a settlement at the nearest Gold Mine." Prince Kael knew the danger the world was in, but his priority as of now was keeping his people alive.

          "Where are we Prince Kael?"

"I'm not sure. The Portal was unstable. We could be anywhere."

A Gold mine came into view.

"Ah, a Gold Mine. We'll build the Town Hall here." Prince Kael began to order, but his words were drowned out as a group of Furbolgs burst out of the trees with all the ferocity of the Legion.

Amidst a hail of Arrows and Magic Prince Kael managed to yell "We cannot defeat a force this vast! Run! Flee my brethren!" The Blood Elves disengaged the Furbolgs and fled from the forest clearing. The Furbolgs were relentless; they hounded the Elves, chasing them through the dense forest. The Furbolgs slowed as the Elves began to outrun them. Then, they reached the shore.

"We are trapped! It is hopeless my lord!" a young Spell Breaker said with a hint of hysteria in his voice

"We shall stand and fight. No Elven Army has ever left an opponent without them first fearing the Wrath of the Elves! To Arms my brothers, my sisters! To arms!" The two forces clashed and the Elves gained an instant advantage with there superior weaponry. But the Furbolgs were an endless horde. They simply encircled the Elves.

"We cannot defeat them my Lord." said an Archer fending off a Furbolg with just her bow.

"No. We never could."


	3. Unexpected Allies

The Humans were slain. Every last, cursed one. Reglar raised his Battleaxe to the sky and cried "For the Horde!" The Grunts and Raiders around him also joined the cry. 

They began the long trek back to Orgrimmar. The safest route was down the coast, otherwise they could incur the wrath of the Furbolgs, and they were vicious.

The last excitement of the battle was just dying when Reglar, the Commander of the Horde, saw something he did not expect. He saw an army of Furbolgs slaughtering a strange, unidentified force. His warriors were eager to do battle again, and so he took his Axe and roared. 

The Orcs charged closing in on the battle and slammed into the rear of the group slaying Furbolgs left, right and centre. They destroyed the Furbolgs, not one was left moving.

The other force was staring at the Orcs.

Reglar came upon the most Regal-looking one and said,

"You the Leader?"

"Yes I am Prince Kael tha-"

"You comin' to see the WarChief."

The Orcs encircled the Blood Elves and resumed the long trek to Orgrimmar.

"What's going on, My Lord?" Asked a Priest.

"I don't know."

            The Orcs and Blood Elves entered a great wooden Hall, stared at with mixed feelings of interest and disgust.

They came through a large door and an aging Orc with hints of grey in his hair and beard spoke.

"Who are these Outlanders Reglar? They look like Elves."

"They claim to be Blood Elves, sire." Reglar Reported.

"I have never heard of a Blood Elf before."

"You may have heard of the High Elves though. We call ourselves Blood elves now as we are sworn to avenge the Blood spilled when Quel'thalas was destroyed by the Scourge." Prince Kael told the Old Orc.

"You feel anguish even now. Where do you travel Blood Elf?"

"We merely want a place to call our home."

"Then the Blood Elves can call Orgrimmar their home."

"We are honoured Old-one." Prince Kael said while bowing.

"I am no normal Orc. I am known as Thrall, the WarChief of the Horde." Thrall said aloud to the Elves. Thrall turned to Reglar and said.

"My son, take these people to the Outskirts. Tell the Goblins to build their finest town for them."

"Yes Father."

The Group exited the hall and the Soldiers called. 

"Hail Thrall, WarChief of the Horde!"


	4. A Legacy of Death

            Reglar walked into his hut gripping his Battleaxe tightly.

"I can't believe he trusts these, Outlanders." Reglar growled to himself. "He is a fool to believe their allegiance is true."

"But in your heart of hearts, you know the WarChief is right."

Drek'thar had walked in.

"The WarChief has grown old and complacent." said Reglar

"You know that whatever decision the WarChief makes is always correct. Do you really think you could have survived alone in Kalimdor, your parents dead around you? You even call him father."

"When the Quillboars left my parents corpses, Thrall was already their. He is my father." Reglar said with a calm voice.

"Then you know you can trust him."

"Yes Master Shaman."

"Just remember the amount of times Thrall has come to your aid. That debt will be repaid one day." Drek'thar said before departing to the city centre.

Reglar stared at the ground for a while before shaking his concentration and saying. 

"Nazgrel, tell my father I'm going to pay the Blood Elf a visit.

            "Hail, Son-of-Thrall." spoke Kael'thas regally.

"Hail, Prince Kael." replied Reglar "I want to know how you got here. I want to know where you came from. I want to know everything about you."

"I bid thee to sit down." Prince Kael motioned to a chair. "You may need to."

            "Quickly, we must go to see my father." Reglar barked quickly.

"We are in no immediate danger." said Prince Kael.

"Yes we are, only the records my father keeps can truly inform you of what Gul'dan is capable of."

"It can wait until the morning." laughed Prince Kael.

"You do not know the Legacy of Death that has followed that creature for generations! We are leaving, NOW!" yelled Reglar.

"Guard, inform the men that I am leaving for a while."

The two left at an unholy speed, Reglar on his Dire wolf, Kael on his White horse.

            They leapt of their mounts and dashed into the Great Hall.

"What is the meaning of this, Reglar?" asked Thrall.

"Father, Prince Kael'thas has something of great importance to tell you."

"I was driven from Outland, the remnants of the broken world of Draenor to this Continent by Gul'dan." Prince Kael explained slowly

"Are you sure?" asked the Great WarChief.

"Yes. He has control of a vast, demonic, army that is poised to take this world and countless others." Prince Kael had all eyes on him.

"Drek'thar?"

"Yes WarChief."

"Gather **all **the Shamans, Witch Doctors and Spirit Walkers you can, we must find the rift that will allow Gul'dan to enter our world." ordered Thrall.

"WarChief?" ventured Kael'thas. "Allow me to pledge my Priests to this cause."

The hall was shocked that an outlander, let alone an Elf, had offered their own kin to help.

"Drek'thar, the Elven Priests will aid you aswell." Thrall slowly ordered.

            Weeks passed and no progress was made. The world knew though. The world knew when the Warlock had returned.

When the sky cracked open to reveal the swirling chaos of the Twisting Nether. The sky was plastered with a multitude of destructive Firestorms. Huge columns of fire could be seen from Khaz-Modan to Ashenvale.

"WarChief. He is here." Drek'thar spoke with a heavy heart.

"Are you sure?" asked Thrall.

"Look to the sky WarChief."

Thrall stepped out and saw the chaotic pathways of the Twisting Nether.

"The Horde must go." said Thrall. "Where is he Drek'thar?" 

"The Tomb of Sargeras, WarChief."

"By the Great Beyond, We're too late."


	5. The Assembling of the Clans

"Have the Clans been assembled, Nazgrel?" asked Thrall.

"Nearly WarChief, we are still awaiting news from the Stonemaul Ogres." reported Nazgrel.

"Reglar!" shouted Thrall. "You are to lead our Wolf Riders into the Wilds, and speak with the Stonemaul Chieftain, the Mok'nathal; Rexxar. See if you can convince him to bring his Ogres to our aid."

"Mok'nathal! Ogres! I must protest, WarChief. This is surely a quest that should only be undertaken by the Orcs?" objected Reglar

"You would be most wise indeed…if only you would accept the, utterly necessary and helpful, allies that we have at our disposal." Thrall shot at Reglar.

"I merely think that this is not the time for…"

"Time?! Time is a virtue that we do not have. Time is the one resource that, in our entire history, we cannot harvest. There is no time. You will go into the wilds. You will find Rexxar and you will return with the Ogres." snapped the raging Thrall. "What are you waiting for? Go, now!"

"Yes WarChief." sighed Reglar

            Margol, Reglar's lieutenant was just ordering the Wolf Riders to get a good night's rest, when Reglar came and said 

"Call them back we leave for the Wilds right now."

"I cannot ask them to go out riding all through the night." protested Margol

"The do not ask them, order them." replied Reglar. "Either way, we leave now."

            "How will we know where to find the Half-Breed, Reglar?" inquired Margol

A small campfire appeared through the forests. There was a dead Ogre-Mage lying in it.

"I believe this is how." said Reglar. He dismounted and walked to the corpse.

"Only a being of tremendous power could have defeated an Ogre-Mage one-on-one."

"How do you know there was only one?" asked Margol.

"There's only one set of tracks, strange tracks at that. They look like something slithered instead of walked."

"Slithered, what kind of creature could that be?"

"I have no idea. Come on! We must get to the camp."

            "Chieftain, Fish-creatures are attacking us everywhere. We attack, we stay?" asked an Ogre.

"We attack! For the Wilds!" yelled the strangely attired Warrior.

"Magi! Attack!" bellowed the Ogre.

Blue Ogres burst out of the trees and the markings on their skin shone as bright as the Sun. Blue light shot out from their stumpy fingertips and the enemy's front lines curled up into a crisp.

"Sirens, attack!" came the throaty order from behind the trees.

Creatures that had arms and faces, but had tails where they should have had legs, threw green bolts towards the Magi. The Magi shook violently and an ethereal, misty version of them floated toward the Nether trying to claw there way back to their bodies.

            "By the Wilds! What have they done?" asked the Ogre skinned soldier to no-one in particular. He watched the thick-jawed Fish-men slither towards him at a frightening speed. He gripped his two axes tightly and cleaved the first skull, threw his second at another also piercing its brain, he retrieved and smashed them together he muttered some ancient, forgotten language, and, as if from nowhere, a whole herd of Thunder Lizards crashed through the undergrowth and exploded on some of his scaly adversaries.

            Reglar heard rumbling and the sounds of a battle not so far-off. He raised his face to the air and sniffed. His eyes went wide.

"What is it Commander?" inquired Margol

"I smell Ogres. That way!" he shouted and began to run at the same speed as his Raiders.

"We must find the Mok'nathal."

            Rexxar was beginning to sweat he was surrounded by dead Ogres and Fish-creatures. He had no tricks left. He was beginning to give up hope, yet still he continued to fight. He felt the pain in his back; he reached behind and pulled the arrow out. He fell to his knees and the world began to fade. He saw the Trident above his head, his vision cleared when he heard the cry.

"For the Horde!" Reglar yelled like a madman and cut the being in two. The Raiders piled in and beat the Fish-creatures in to a full rout. After the battle Reglar walked to Rexxar and began to talk to him.

"We are searching for a great warrior who shares both Ogre and Orc blood. Have you seen him, his name is Rexxar."

"I have never heard of such a being." said Rexxar hiding his true identity.

"It is greatly important. The WarChief Thrall needs all allies he can gather…" began Reglar.

"WarChief Thrall? What is the trouble?" asked the Mok'nathal.

"The entire world is under threat from an old power long thought dead." said Reglar

"I am Rexxar, the Mok'nathal. Champion of the Horde." Said Rexxar standing up.

"Show me the Banner." said Reglar deeply.

"It is in my hut."

* * *

"The Tomb is open my Lord." said Lady Vashj

"Excellent. Send in all your Naga, then…" started Gul'dan

"All my Naga!? Even they cannot hold the Demons that are within." warned Gul'dan.

"I know the power of the Demons Sea-Witch, you will lose not one of your Precious Amphibians." bitterness and hatred was loaded into every syllable of Gul'dan's sentence.

Vashj shouted something in Elvish and the Naga entered the Tomb of Sargeras.


End file.
